


Part of the Script

by kuriadalmatia



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Family Drama, Future Fic, Gen, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriadalmatia/pseuds/kuriadalmatia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of JJ's old job with the BAU was delivering notifications, sometimes even coaching the locals on how to do it. So when a young Statie delivers devastating news to her home, all she can think of is: he's doing it wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ARCHIVING: my AO3, LJ and FFNet ... anyone else? Please ask first.
> 
> Feedback always welcome.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. Salut! I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done. I'm not making any profit just trying to get these images out of my head.
> 
> VERSION: January-April 2011, June 2011. This story was actually finished a while ago, but my own insecurities prevented me from publishing it. I'm still not happy with the ending.
> 
> TIMELINES/SPOILERS: Future fic set approximately 5 years into the future of S6 after JJ leaves the BAU (and doesn't come back). It does not take into consideration any events beyond Season 6's "JJ" including JJ and Will getting married.
> 
> COMMENTS: Unbetaed. Um. Yeah. One of those fics. It's told from JJ's point of view and, yes, it can be considered experimental due to the nature of the fic. Thanks to the wonderful people at LJ's little_details regarding DC's Mixing Bowl.
> 
> There are triggering issues withing this fic, specifically the final chapter, including character deaths.

*****/*****

_**Hugh Elliot wrote, "Death can sneak up on you like a silent kitten, surprising you with its touch and you have a right to act surprised. Other times death stomps in the front door, unwanted and unannounced, and makes its noisy way to your seat on the sofa."** _

_*****/***** _

It took less than a second for JJ to realize just what kind of news the state trooper standing on her front porch was going to deliver.

Her first thought was, _He has the wrong house_.

Her second was: _My God, it really_ _ **is**_ _the first thing you think when you open the door and see an uninvited LEO there ..._

Her third: _It's not Spence or Derek or Emily or Dave or Hotch._

Her fourth: _Damn, that statie is young._

The trooper was younger than Spencer, which really wasn't all _that_ young considering Spencer was now, what? Thirty-something? JJ suddenly couldn't remember. It felt like just yesterday that she brought in that chocolate cake and Morgan insisted on dotting it with trick candles. It was back when Elle first joined the team ... but no … that was what? Ten years ago?

_Really? That long?_

The officer's eyes were slightly wet while his mouth was grimly set. He clutched his hat in his left hand and a post-it note in his right. "Mrs. LaMontagne?"

The trooper—Stose, according to his name badge—butchered the pronunciation like most people did "up North," which was Will's designation for anyone _not_ from Louisiana.

Stose broke the first rule: always know how to pronounce the name. Always. He also broke the second rule: always know the relationship, if the persons were married or not and if the wife took the husband's name.

In JJ's case, the answer was no to both questions: she and Will never married and she never went by his name, even when they visited his relatives in New Orleans. Therefore, _The officer must have the wrong house._

But he didn't.

JJ knew he didn't, because he kept glancing at the post-it note in his hand then to the brass house numbers to his right and then to her. She swallowed as she took a step back. "I'm Jennifer Jareau," she said. "Will LaMontagne is my fiancé."

It was easier to say that than "significant other" or "boyfriend" or "father of our child"; fiancé was the designation that she and Will agreed upon the day Henry celebrated his first birthday. JJ had still been with the BAU and still leery of commitment because in the then-four years she was there, she watched six marriages implode in spectacular fashion.

Yet as the last syllable of 'fiancé' left her mouth, JJ realized that she should have just answered, 'Yes, I'm Mrs. LaMontagne.' Stose turned an interesting shade of grayish-white, the color just before someone with pale skin was about to puke.

 _He's thinking about his own fiancée,_ JJ concluded as she waited for him to explain why he was here, because that was another rule. _Script, not rule_ , she corrected herself. _It's part of the script_. _First, confirm to whom you are speaking. If it's not the right person, ask for that person. For a young child, ask for the appropriate parent or head of household. Second, introduce yourself. Keep it simple. 'My name is … and I'm with …' and, most importantly if you're not in uniform, hold up your badge for the person to see and confirm that you are who you say you are. Third, ask to come in and then speak privately to him/her/them. Fourth, suggest he/she/they sit down. Fifth, state your business._

Stose looked so close to barfing that JJ took pity on him because she did not want vomit on the evergreens. She offered a small smile as she prompted, "You're Office Stose with the …" She paused and glanced behind him, where cruiser was parked in her driveway. _Will's going to have a fit that a statie is parked in his spot._

"Virginia State Police, ma'am," Stose blurted and shifted on his feet. "May I … ah … may I come inside?"

JJ nodded. The trooper took a deep breath, set his shoulders and took a step inside. She closed the door behind him and then led him to the front room. As she sat down, she gestured to the seat across from her.

Stose remained standing, clutching his hat and glancing around the neatly decorated room. "Ma'am …" He took another deep breath. "Ma'am … ah … your fiancé was involved in car accident this afternoon. He … ah … was traveling southbound on Interstate three-nine-five near the interchange for Interstates four-nine-five and ninety-five …"

 _Stose's new to the area_ , JJ realized, because locals always said "395 South" and referred to the interchange as "the Mixing Bowl."

"… when a tractor-trailer …"

 _He's giving too much detail_ …

"… rolled …"

 _Too much detail_ …

"… collision …"

_He sounds like a news reporter._

"… fiancé …"

_Who in God's name trained this man?_

"… son …"

_Why doesn't he just say, 'Ma'am, I'm here about your fiancé and your son. They were involved in a traffic accident. They were killed instantly. I'm so sorry for your loss.'_

Because then JJ could gasp and clutch her chest and deny and wail and crumple and sob and scream and accuse and … and … and …

"Ma'am?"

JJ blinked.

Stose was standing in front of her, leaning over slightly and touching her right shoulder. "Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have someone you can call? Someone to stay with you?"

 _It's the first damn thing he's done right_. JJ nodded as she reached up and pushed his hand off her shoulder. "Yes."

"I can stay here until …"

"That's unnecessary, Officer Stose," she interrupted, voice unwavering and firm yet she was surprised she said those words. She lifted her chin. She made sure she met his gaze as she continued, "You don't need to stay, but thank you for offering."

Stose's mouth opened and shut a few times. He adjusted the grip on his hat. "If you're sure …"

_You're not supposed to give up that easily …_

JJ slowly stood, forcing him to take a step back. "I'm sure, Officer Stose."

"I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am," he choked out.

 _I'm going to be so damn sick of that phrase …_ "Thank you."

"I'll just show myself out."

_You're not supposed to leave me alone until you make sure I call someone. You're supposed to ask if there is anyone else in the house. Who the hell trained you? They should be fired._

JJ watched as Officer Stose turned and walked toward the door, his steps quicker and lighter than before.

_He should never be allowed to deliver death notifications again. I'll be sure to tell his supervisor that …_

JJ sat down on the couch. She stared at her hands. She had no clue what she was supposed to do next.

/***/


	2. Chapter 2

It took three tries, but she finally managed to dial Spencer's number. JJ wasn't using her work-issued mobile where all she had to do was scroll and press 'enter', but her cordless home phone. It was almost eight in the evening, but that rarely translated to "being home" for any member of the BAU. JJ supposed she could call him on his cell phone, but she didn't want to say, _Spence, your godson is dead_ , if he was working a case.

It was the exact same reason why she didn't call Penelope.

Two hours passed since Officer Stose left her home. Two hours in which her government-issued mobile remained silent. JJ wondered if those at the office knew what happened and were respecting her privacy. It had to be on the news by now; she was notified of their deaths and therefore the names of the victims could be released. Someone from her office should be calling.

Someone, right?

On some level, she knew that her coworkers cared, but that group was nothing like those in the BAU. They didn't know each other like the BAU teams knew each other.

Then again, they weren't living out of each other's pockets.

Odd that JJ missed that. Those funky little quirks that she didn't even realize she depended on, such as a lemon-poppy seed muffin mysteriously placed on her desk after dealing reporters who were being complete asshats or Cadbury Crème Eggs in her pencil holder around Easter time. A mug of Celestial Seasonings Peppermint tea with one packet of Sugar in the Raw on those flights home when she just couldn't get warm enough. A spare mobile phone charger because she had a habit of losing hers even if the cord was wrapped in sparkly neon pink yarn so she'd see it …

Her current colleagues barely acknowledged birthdays within the department, still had trouble with Will's last name, and thought she was from Ohio.

JJ heard the beep of his answering machine. She stared at the wall, her mouth moving a few seconds without any sounds coming out. Then, "Spence, call me on my home phone when you get in." Her voice sounded flat and calm, in control. "It doesn't matter what time it is. I don't care. Just … call me."

She ended the call and scrolled through her mobile phone again. She could call Penelope. She _should_ call Penelope. It was rare for Penelope to actually _travel_ on a case … wait. It _used_ to be rare for the technical analyst to leave her lair, but since JJ was forced out of the BAU, she knew that Penelope took a few more 'road trips' than she used to.

But calling Penelope meant … JJ closed her eyes. She remembered what Penelope had said on her final day at the BAU, that they would eventually lose touch. Days would become weeks and weeks would become months and months would become years despite their best efforts. It was one of the few things her job at the State had in common with her role at the BAU: the grind never stopped.

They didn't talk as often as they used to. JJ didn't send pictures as often as she used to. Penelope didn't send gifts as often as she used to.

If she called Penelope, there would be that natural inclination towards guilt. The last time Penelope saw her godson was six months ago. Since then, Henry grew two inches and shaved his eyebrows off with Will's electric razor.

_What will the mortician say when he sees that my little boy has no eyebrows? Suggest a closed casket?_

God. Would she even have a choice?

/***/


	3. Chapter 3

The phone's shrill ring startled JJ. She jumped, surprised that she'd dozed off. She shook herself and glanced down at the display on the cordless phone. Spencer's cell number. She let out a sigh of relief and hit the 'talk' button. "Hello?"

"JJ, what's going on?" Spencer asked. He was using his 'brief me on the case' voice. Funny how she missed hearing it.

"Spence," she said and then abruptly stopped. _Face-to-face is always preferred to a phone call unless a phone call is the only option_. It was another one of the rules she abided by. She cleared her throat as she fiddled with the scroll button on her own mobile. "Can you come over?"

"JJ, what's going on?" he repeated, this time more urgent. This time, the worry bled through.

"I just need you to come over. Could you come over now?"

"If someone is there threatening you, then …"

"No one is threatening me, Spence," she interrupted. "I just need you to come over."

"Who else is there, JJ?"

She blinked. She pressed her lips together. "It's just me."

"Where are Will and Henry?"

 _I don't know_ , she almost said, because she didn't. Had they already been taken to the morgue? Spencer was one of the few people who could digest information like that and not ask stupid questions like, _Are you alright?_ Because … because … JJ mentally shook herself. "They're not here."

There was a pause and then he asked softly, "Where are they, JJ?"

"Can you just come over? Please?"

"I'm heading out my door right now," Spencer told her, his voice still soft. Soothing. Caring.

 _He's using his 'talk to the victim' voice_ , she realized. She wanted to be angry but found she couldn't. No. She felt pride that he'd developed that skill. Oh, he had it when he first started the BAU, something that really shocked everyone, but over the years, he honed it to be on par with Hotch and Morgan.

"Tell me about your day," he coaxed.

She fought the bubble of laughter tickling her throat because she couldn't really remember what she did today. Instead, she said, "You shouldn't be talking on the phone while driving, Spence. There's a law."

"The ban is on hand-held devices," Spencer replied. "I'm putting you on speaker …"

"You shouldn't be talking on the phone while driving, Spence," JJ repeated. "There's a law."

"JJ, I'll be there in … twenty minutes. Please, just talk to me, okay? Do _not_ hang up …"

She didn't want him breaking a law.

She hung up.

She refused to answer the phone when it rang again.

She didn't want him breaking a law.

/***/


	4. Chapter 4

One thing about Spencer Reid: he was a very persistent man. Why else would he keep calling her? JJ was mad, because she told him not to call and he was driving and he shouldn't be calling while he was driving because there was a law and Spencer shouldn't be breaking laws even if his badge could get him out of a ticket but still it was breaking a law and it wasn't safe and … and … and …

It was chilly. JJ tucked her feet beneath her. She heard the squeal of breaks—wow, someone was impatient—and she fiddled with the red bow on Mister Ursa. She remembered when Henry decided to name all his stuffed animals after constellations; it was after Spencer had taken him to the planetarium. After that, Henry renamed everything—Mister Taurus, Mister Leo, Mister Draco, Mister Pegasus—yet he still wasn't as serious as Jack Hotchner, who definitely took after his father in the stoic department.

God, she hadn't seen Hotch and Jack in over a year. How old was Jack now? What had he worn in the Christmas photo Hotch had sent? Did she even send Hotch a photo of her family?

The phone rang again.

She didn't answer.

After five rings, she knew the machine would pick up.

It stopped ringing after the fourth.

JJ watched as the lights were turned on in her kitchen, then in the hallway leading upstairs. The curtains were drawn in the two bedrooms that faced the backyard, but she could still tell those lights were being turned on as well. Blue and red flashes danced against the siding of the house, siding that Will was determined to replace in the spring. The backyard floodlights suddenly bathed the dying grass in pure bluish-white light.

The kitchen backdoor opened suddenly. She watched as Spencer emerged, gun and flashlight drawn as he called out, "JJ?"

He looked absolutely silly.

JJ settled back against the wood wall, knowing she had to gather her strength and resolve to deliver the news. Kindness. Empathy. She needed convey that when she spoke to him.

The phone rang.

She heard her name called out again, followed by a second voice, one she was unfamiliar with. "Ms. Jareau?"

At least they got her last name right. Then again, Spencer was with them and he'd make sure that they knew how to address her properly.

A beam of light danced through the open window, on the plain wood ceiling. JJ wanted to paint it with the constellations to match what Spencer had done in Henry's bedroom; the furthest she'd gotten was two coats of navy paint. The glow-in-the-dark stickers were still in the basement.

"JJ?" Spencer called out again. Her phone rang twice before falling silent. She swore she heard Spencer say, "Officer? Cover me."

She wanted to laugh, because it sounded so ludicrous.

The light danced on the ceiling again. She heard the creaking of the wood planks and watched as the beam wobbled down the wall. Then, the light was on her and she clutched Mister Ursa tightly.

"JJ, it's me." Spencer's tone was gentle, soothing. She watched as he flashed the beam through rest of the treehouse, one that he helped Will to design and Morgan helped to build. They had been like three little boys in the backyard, talking about periscopes and escape routes and trapdoors and secret cubbies to hide precious toys from grabby little sisters, babies that JJ and Will tried to have but with no luck.

Spencer clambered inside the house, kneeling as he swept the light over the inside again. JJ noticed that the buckle on his holster was unsnapped. Silly boy. He must have cleared her house. He didn't need to do that. Spencer leaned backward slightly, looking down to the ground. "She's up here, alone. Check the garage and the shed." He then turned to face her. "JJ, I need you to look at me, please."

She let go of the phone, the plastic clattering against the heavily coated polyurethane wood. She fumbled for her credentials that she made sure she carried with her. She opened up the leather billfold and held it out for him to see.

"I'm Jennifer Jareau, with the FBI."

Spencer nodded as he set the flashlight now. "Do you recognize me?"

"Of course, Doctor Reid," JJ said calmly as she set her credentials down on the floor. "Is there someplace private we can talk?"

"We're the only ones here, JJ," he replied softly. "This is private."

She nodded. He was right. How could she have forgotten? At least he was sitting. Maybe she should offer him some coffee. No, the coffee would be after she told him the news. She made sure his met his gaze, something that Officer Stose didn't quite manage. She kept her voice calm, enunciating the words but infusing them with some warmth. "There was a fatal accident on the three-nine-five, Spencer." JJ paused and before reaching forward and touching the back of his hand. "I'm so sorry. Henry and Will … they didn't make it."

JJ watched him carefully, surprised that he didn't exclaim that she was wrong, that there was no possible way … _He's in shock,_ she told herself. She curled her hand around his, keeping the grip light yet grounding. She watched as he glanced down briefly and then met her gaze. He licked his lips. "JJ …"

"Do you have someone you can call?"

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. His voice was soothing, not at all like it should be. "Yes, I have someone I can call. Will you come with me to the house? So I can make the call from there?"

She held out the phone for him. "You can use this."

He accepted it with a light nod and slid it into his pocket. "Thank you. But I'd feel more comfortable if we were inside the house. Will you join me?"

"Of course, Spencer. Of course."

/***/


	5. Chapter 5

When JJ introduced herself, making sure she held her credentials open long enough for the woman to read it, she watched as shock and confusion warred on the woman's face. Typical. A normal reaction. People didn't expect an LEO, much less an FBI agent to show up on their doorstep.

"Jayge …" the woman sputtered, tears streaking down her face.

JJ watched as Spencer placed a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. She heard him whisper, "Let her finish."

The woman jerked out a nod. JJ was grateful that Spencer had such a calming presence with the woman. JJ gestured for them to sit, which they did. She perched herself carefully on the edge of the chair, leaned forward slightly and clasped her hands in front of her.

"I know this is difficult," she began. Empathy played such a huge role. It was why she was so good at what she did. She relayed the news, just as calmly as she had for Spencer. "I'm so sorry."

"Jayge …" the woman said again before grabbing JJ's hands. "Jayge, it's me."

"I know you loved your godson," JJ continued. She offered a sad smile. "I know you did."

The woman looked over to Spencer, who still had his hand on her shoulder. "What do we do?"

Spencer let out a slow sigh. "JJ, did the officer tell you where they took our godson and his father?"

"What are you doing?" the woman hissed at Spencer.

JJ watched as his hand tightened on the woman's shoulder, effectively silencing her. Spencer looked directly at JJ as he repeated, "Did the officer tell you where they took our godson and his father?"

She thought for a moment. Her mouth opened to answer, but she shook her head. "I … I don't … I don't have that information."

"Penelope, could get some coffee for Agent Jareau and me?" Spencer urged as he let go of her shoulder and jutted his chin towards the kitchen. The woman gaped at him, her gaze bouncing between JJ and Spencer. He tacked on a gentle, "Please." The woman jerked out a nod as she slowly got to her feet, releasing JJ's hands as she stood. She wobbled, probably from her impossibly high heels. She nodded again as she picked up her large purse and made her way to the kitchen.

JJ watched, pity filling her. "She shouldn't be alone."

"I know. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment privately," he replied earnestly as he sat down on the couch. "Can you tell me anything more about what happened?"

JJ looked at him. She set her shoulders. And then, she repeated everything the officer had said that afternoon.

She wondered why her vision was blurry.

/***/


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch's hands were strong and warm like always, his voice gentle. His eyes … JJ was always amazed how much he could convey with his gaze. Today, he looked at her with kindness mixed with worry. As she spoke with him, she realized she never noticed the fine strands of silver at his temples. It made him look even more distinguished than he usually did, even if he wasn't wearing ubiquitous suit but a burgundy pullover and khaki pants. He could make a casual look seem formal.

JJ tried to smile reassuringly. She glanced over to the kitchen; she could hear Spencer patiently explaining something. She couldn't hear his exact words, but the cadence meant he was trying to comfort someone. But Spencer was in _her_ kitchen. She frowned. "It's his godson," she said quietly. "We should be at Spence's place, not here."

Hotch squeezed her hand gently. "You know how Spencer feels about company."

 _Of course. Of course. How can I forget? He doesn't want us profiling him even more than we already do_. However … She cocked her head slight as she met his gaze. "Penelope's then. It's their godson."

"Her apartment isn't big enough," he told her softly. "She doesn't mind guests, but there aren't a lot of places to sit." He paused and then his left eyebrow lifted like it always did when he was about to make a sly joke. "Plus, we've all heard the stories about the beanbag and the recliner."

The laugh unexpectedly bubbled past her lips; she knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. JJ quickly raised a hand to cover her mouth, sparing another glance to the kitchen and hoping the grieving godparents didn't hear her. She stared at Hotch. "We're not supposed to joke." She couldn't believe she had to tell him that. "You taught me that."

Because he did. Before the BAU, JJ never delivered a notification. She never had to deal with the myriad of emotions that such devastating news evoked. She remembered Hotch accompanying her when she did it for the first time and the second and the third … how many had he been there for? His silent strength gave her the courage to push through those words, not to get too caught up. The importance of empathy. The fine line of distance. The need for thick skin when the accusations came.

"And you taught me that there is no shame levity, that in the most serious times, we need to smile," Hotch said, voice even as if he didn't mind her rebuke at all.

JJ blinked. Her eyes burned. She bit her lips together. She looked off to the side. "Do they know where the coffee cups are?"

"I'm sure they'll figure it out."

/***/


	7. Chapter 7

Until David Rossi joined the Team, JJ had never had baked ziti before. Sure, spaghetti with meatballs and lasagna were staples in the Jareau household growing up because it was cheap and easy in a family where both parents worked a lot of hours for not a lot of money. It wasn't until JJ graduated college that she opted for fettuccini alfredo or pasta primavera or the occasional gnocchi when dining out.

She remembered the first time she had the Rossi Family Baked Ziti. They were celebrating … something … God! Why was it so hard to remember things? Still, JJ had taken a bite and nearly swooned because the sauce was just so and the pasta was deliciously al dente and there were no words for how amazing the cheese was. Tonight, she wondered how the hell she lucked in to a casserole dish full of Rossi Family Baked Ziti.

JJ stared at the plate in front of her. A serving of baked ziti, two slices of garlic bread, and steamed baby carrots. Henry was a fussy eater, especially with new foods. Unless she arranged the plate just so, he wouldn't touch it. So, JJ cut the toast in half and placed two halves on the edges of the plate. She split the ziti and formed two mounds on either side of the plate below the bread. She took one of the two remaining bread slices and angled it between the ziti. She arranged the carrots in a half circle, placing the remaining slice of bread on one of the corners.

She smiled at her work, knowing that at least she could get him to try at least one bite of each. JJ picked up the plate, turned to her right towards Henry, and smiled as she said, "Look! Groucho Marx!"

Spence's fork was half-way to his mouth. His mouth was open. He set his fork down and pushed his plate to the side as he slowly closed his mouth. He leaned forward, inspecting her work and then nodded, "Definitely Groucho. Did you know that there were actually five Marx brothers—Gummo left before they became famous—and that Groucho's legal name was actually Julius Henry?"

JJ swallowed. She set the plate down. She glanced around the table. Prentiss was in Will's spot, the place to Henry's left. Hotch sat to JJ's right. The "guest" chair. Their forks rested on their plates.

It didn't make sense.

She looked at Spence, because she knew he would answer her honestly. "Where's Henry?" She looked over to where Hotch sat. "Where's Will?"

Spence's cool hand covered hers. "JJ, do you remember when Officer Stose stopped by late yesterday?"

JJ pulled her hand back, stunned that her friend would make such an intimate gesture. "Stose? Who is Officer Stose?"

He reached out again, but placed his hand on the table near her plate and not on her hand. "Officer Stose is the state trooper who told you about Henry and Will."

"What about Henry and Will?"

Spence paused and then took a deep breath. "JJ, Henry and Will … they were involved in a traffic accident yesterday. They were killed instantly."

JJ's breath caught.

She pushed back violently from the table.

"No."

"JJ, I am so sorry."

"You're lying."

"JJ …"

"I can't believe you, Spence! How could you lie?"

He stood up. He grasped both her hands. "JJ, I would never lie to you about that. You know that."

She looked at Hotch. His mouth was downturned and his voice was low yet gentle. "Spencer wouldn't lie to you, JJ. Not about this. Never about this."

JJ looked at Prentiss, whose eyes were wet and she blinked rapidly. "JJ, I am so sorry."

"No!" she rocketed to her feet. Spence reached for her but she pushed him away. "No! You're wrong!" She looked at the backdoor. JJ stumbled towards it, smacking Hotch's hand as he reached for her. "They're out back." She fumbled with the knob, fighting it until it finally opened. The cool night air hit her, making her shiver.

JJ charged toward the four wooden planks nailed to the maple tree and shouting, "Will! Henry!" as she did, because the treehouse was where the two liked to hang out before dinner.

She got her right foot on the bottom plank, grabbing the third one with both hands as she started to haul herself up. A sharp pain seared through her palm, causing her to release the wood and fall back. She landed hard on her ass. She stared up into the tree house, surprised that it was dark.

"Will! Henry!" When she didn't hear them respond, she demanded, "Answer me!"

Firm hands settled on her shoulders. She was being pulled to her feet. She looked over her shoulder to find Spence looking at her, his expression full of pain and sorrow. "They're not there, JJ. I'm so sorry. They're not there. They died in a car accident on the interstate. Officer Stose …"

JJ balled her fisted, swinging as she turned and thumping him hard on the chest. He let out an "Oof!" but didn't let her go. She screamed, "You're lying! You're lying!"

"I'm not lying, JJ," Spence whispered and pulled her into a hard hug. "I am so sorry. God, I am so sorry. You called me, remember? I came over. I found you in the treehouse. You told me what happened."

"No."

"You were holding Mister Ursa. You showed me your badge and told me what happened. We went into your living room so I could call someone."

"No."

"Penelope came over. You told her what happened. Penelope made coffee. We stayed with you last night. We sat on your couch. Hotch, Rossi and Prentiss came over this morning. Emily made lunch and Dave made dinner. Morgan's on his way from New York."

"No!"

"JJ … please, JJ …"

She could feel the hammer of his heart. The sharp bones of his shoulder and chest. She hit him again but he didn't let her go.

"The closest thing I have to a son has died in a car accident, JJ," Spence said, his voice wavering with each syllable. "You're the closest thing I have to a sister. How could I lie to you about that?"

The words stopped her cold.

Her world spun sideways.

The last thing she heard was, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

/***/


	8. Chapter 8

JJ was doing okay until Jack Hotchner, dressed impeccably in a suit and not looking at all uncomfortable wearing it, came up to her and spoke. In her years with the BAU and seeing those daily horrors, she knew that some children had a gifted insight into things. Jack Hotchner was no exception. He still had some of that boyish innocence to him despite the horrors that had happened those years ago.

There were nights still when JJ woke up with a scream lodged in her throat and Haley Hotchner's last words echoing in her mind.

"I know you're sad, but Heaven is a good place. My mom will take care of them," Jack said earnestly. "I know she will."

JJ just stared.

Jack's face fell. He looked desperately to his father, who was rapidly approaching. It was Penelope who said, "Oh, Jack-Jack, you're so sweet," and crushed the boy with a hug. "I know your mom would do just that. And you know? My parents will be there, too, because they love a good party."

It was Spencer who squeezed JJ's hand. It was Spencer who pulled her away before she could say something inappropriate. It was Spencer whom she fell against and cried, "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Spencer assured her as he stroked her hair. "Nothing is wrong with you."

"I'm supposed to be …"

"You're fine," he whispered fiercely. "You're _fine._ "

/***/


	9. Chapter 9

Up until seven days ago, JJ never understood why her sister had taken her own life. Never.

But now?

Well.

It made sense.

Heaven was a good place, after all.

She sat in the bathtub filled with warm water. She was still fully clothed except for her shoes. She didn't want Spencer to find her naked. She knew that would make him blush and she wanted to save him from that embarrassment.

During her days in the BAU, JJ had learned various ways people committed suicide. Spencer had once rattled off the survival statics of the different methods. Drugs weren't always the best, but they were what JJ had ready access to. Spencer, after all, was guarding her and Will's guns.

The pills were leftover from Will's rotator cuff surgery last year and JJ's ACL replacement surgery a year before that. Fifty-seven pills in total; since they both hated being drugged up, there were always leftover pain meds. Hydrocodone. Codeine. Powerful stuff.

Pain killers.

JJ was in pain.

Therefore, she took them two at a time with a bare mouthful of water as she sat in the tub. The warm water made her blood circulate faster. It took longer than expected and in the end, she felt bloated.

JJ allowed a giggle. Bloated. Bloated in her own bathtub.

She closed her eyes.

This was remarkably easy.

She just had to wait.

She slid deeper into the water.

She barely heard the pounding on the bathroom door. The shouts of her name.

She barely felt the hands on her arms. The harsh pull forward as she was yanked out of the water.

"Morgan! Morgan! Call 9-1-1!" Spencer shouted, his voice high-pitched and desperate.

JJ slowly opened her eyes and gazed at the godfather of her son. "It's okay, Spence. Heaven's a good place."

"What did you take? Tell me," he urged. "Tell me, JJ, what did you take?"

"I'll be with them soon." She closed her eyes. She let the sleep take over.

She didn't hear the screams and the shouts and the crashes and the sirens.

Heaven was a good place. And Will and Henry were waiting for her.

/***/ Finis /***/


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